


Dizzy

by ThatHistoryNerd



Category: Classical Greece and Rome History & Literature RPF, Rome (TV 2005)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sick Character, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:28:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24675355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatHistoryNerd/pseuds/ThatHistoryNerd
Summary: When Caesar had fallen ill in the past, he kept it carefully hidden. But when he has another attack of his sickness in Gaul, Antony is there.
Relationships: Mark Antony/Julius Caesar
Comments: 8
Kudos: 28





	Dizzy

Almost nobody knew of Caesar's condition. It had first appeared in his late thirties, when he was governor over Spain, though his physician thought it may have stemmed from a bout of malaria in his youth. One of his most trusted slaves, Callus, typically cared for him during his attacks, making sure nobody saw lest it demoralize the troops, but this time Callus was not there. Mark Antony, however, was.

The two men had spent all evening in Caesar's tent, going over the battle plans for the next few days. Antony thought Caesar looked tired, but he paid it no mind. After all, he had reason to be; it had been a long day of fighting, and Antony himself was worn down.

But Caesar looked pale, and as he traced their mapped route with a finger, he began trembling. "Caesar, are you well?" Antony asked, but received no answer. And just like that, Caesar fell to the ground, seizing.

Antony was horrified. He'd never seen anything like it before, and almost thought he might die. But the fit passed, and when Caesar reached out a shaking hand to Antony, he took it and helped him up. He didn't like how easy he was to lift.

"What in Fortuna's name was that?" Antony demanded, as if the affliction was Caesar's fault. He led his commander to his cot, laying him down gently. “I’m getting a physician.”

Caesar shook his head vehemently. “Don’t do that,” he croaked, his eyes wide and voice urgent.” Nobody can know of this illness.”

Antony eyes narrowed. “This isn’t your first attack.” He took a small towel that sat in the washing bowl, wringing it out and using it to sponge Caesar’s forehead and cheeks. The older man’s face had broken out into a feverish sweat, his hairline damp. 

“Hardly,” Caesar replied. The attack had taken so much out of him that he could barely speak over a whisper. “I’ve had this illness for years now, I always recover. But if the troops discover it, they will not wish to follow me into battle any longer.”

Antony wanted to argue, but he knew inwardly that Caesar was right. Still, it seemed a foolish thing to keep secret. “Can you drink some water?” he asked hopefully, handing him his own flask. “It may restore a bit of your strength.”

Caesar had been tired before the attack, but now it seemed all he could do to keep his eyes open. Still, he sat up a little, enough for Antony to press the flask to his lips and make him drink. Only a few sips later, he shook his head, a pained grimace on his pallid face. Antony set the flask down and sighed, kneeling by the cot. 

“You didn’t look well earlier,” Antony noted, smoothing back Caesar’s sweat-soaked locks. “I should have left then, let you rest.” He paused the motion of his hand to let his knuckles rest on Caesar’s forehead, checking him for fever. He felt warm, he thought, but he wasn’t sure if it was significant enough to warrant concern, or if it was simply the heat of exertion.

“I’ll be fine,” Caesar told him, struggling to sit up. He managed to rise from the cot but as soon as he was on his feet, a crippling dizziness overtook him. Antony caught him in his strong arms and laid him back down, chiding him.

“What were you thinking? You’re ill.” He shook his head and took the damp towel in his hand again, laying it across Caesar’s forehead. “Do you want anything? Food, maybe some wine with a little honey? I’ll bring you - - “

“Antony…” Caesar sighed and took the other man’s hand. “Just… sit here with me. Stay, a little while.” It wasn’t phrased a request, but his tone was pleading, and Antony was happy to oblige.

“I’ll sit with you until you fall asleep,” he promised, drawing a small grin from the sick man. He draped the cover over Caesar’s thin frame, dabbing at his forehead a little with the towel before setting it aside. Through the night, Antony tended to him like a worried mother, periodically checking to see if he still breathed regularly, feeling his forehead to test his temperature, which remained just a little elevated. And rather than simply wait until Caesar fell asleep, Antony was there when he woke, too.


End file.
